


Country Living

by Altimeterrise



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Sexual Situations, Comedy, Community: spnkink_meme, Embarrassment, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:02:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altimeterrise/pseuds/Altimeterrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In new relationships, there's always that first awkward moment that breaks into the romance...</p><p>This is a response to a prompt from SPN_kink_meme that turned into a sugary-sweet scene with a dash of humor. See end notes for original prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Country Living

Jensen paused before ringing the doorbell of the cheerful ranch style home. They had gone out three times in the past two weeks, once for coffee and twice for lunch dates, but this would mark the first invite to Jared's house. Jensen wrung his hands nervously before forcing himself to stop. Who knew, maybe that kind of thing didn't have the same significance out here in the country. Not that Amana, Iowa was the wilderness, exactly, but compared to Chicago Jensen found everything here small and quaint – well, except for the local Walmart, but he would have had to move to Africa to escape that particular eyesore.

That's what he needed, anyway – a change. Working at the firm, attending the required social functions, dinner with his parents in their uptown apartment; it all felt like a script he was forced to follow, had felt like that since...God, he couldn't even remember how long. So yeah, a change. And man had he found it, even more than he'd dreamed with Jared. Jared was...a little goofy. Not even a whisper of the relentless ambition and slick polish shared by all the businessmen and lawyer types Jensen had dated up to now. He was – Jensen still did a mental take thinking about it – a _farmer_. “Organic product supplier, if you prefer,” Jared had thrown out with a wink on their first date, while Jensen just stared at him a little stupidly. Jared apparently did a bit of everything: livestock, vegetables, orchard, but said he made the most money off of home brewing his own beers and fruit wines. Jensen didn't know the first thing about cows, and...and all that other nature-ey stuff, but he and Jared had somehow hit it off anyway. Jared had shared surreal little anecdotes about a particularly mean-spirited hen he had nicknamed “Nurse Ratchett,” and the time his dog Harley got sprayed by a skunk and then tracked the damn smell through the entire house before Jared caught him, scrubbing him down with tomato and lemon juice while Harley whined pathetically and sneezed in Jared's face. Jensen was sure he hadn't laughed that hard in _years_. So here they were, three dates in, and no signs of stopping. Jensen really hoped he managed to not screw this up.

Jared opened the door after the second ring, smiling broadly.

“Well, don't you look nice – blazer and everything, huh? Gonna make me feel underdressed.”

Jensen blushed and stammered a little. “No, you look great. Those jeans are really...great.” Lame as that sounded, Jared did look fantastic, in a faded tan chambray and jeans that hugged him in all the right places. Jensen followed him in to the kitchen, where divine smells beckoned from the range and oven.

“I opted for a Western classic – chili and cornbread. Now here's the million-dollar question,” Jared paused dramatically and handed him a beer. “How much heat can you handle?”

Jensen grinned and rolled his eyes. “Well, I don't like my tastebuds seared off, but I'm up for a little zing.”

“Hmph. Not quite up to midwest standards, city boy,” Jared _tsked_ in mock-seriousness, “but you're easy on the eyes, so I guess I can forgive a few flaws.”

“Be still my heart.”

The oven alarm chose that moment to start beeping, halting the playful banter. Jared pivoted down and snatched a mitt from its hook on the wall, before pulling out a pan of golden corn bread.

“All right, that needs at least ten minutes to cool, so I guess we'll have to find a way to pass the time.”

“So...how 'bout them Bears?”

“That might work better if football season hadn't finished four months ago,” Jared smirked.

“Minor detail,” Jensen replied breezily. “I always liked soccer better anyway.”

“Sacrilege! Might as well say you're a fan of synchronized swimming or ballroom dancing.”

Jensen blushed and fiddled with a nonexistent crack on the countertop. Jared's eyes lit up. “Wow, no way. Which one?”

“Well, my best friend since college, Daneel, she watched the ballroom competitions on PBS like a religion, liked to bitch that people should watch the real thing and not that Dancing with the Stars schlock, and - ” he gulped a swallow of his beer quickly, trying to plug his goddamn mouth, but of course he started blabbering again - “It's actually really hard, you know? The steps are incredibly complex, and then dancing to songs that they don't know until they actually step out onto the floor, and it's not like I dance or anything, I just watch with her-”

“Jensen, breathe,” Jared interrupted, looking perplexed and a little concerned. “It's okay to like dancing, really. You don't have to be ashamed of it,” he finished with an encouraging smile. Oh, thank god, Jensen hadn't completely scared him off, despite his great impression of a tape on fast forward.

“I'm not ashamed, I just...law firms, especially the big corporate ones, the culture is pretty conservative. Trying to be taken seriously while being openly gay was hard enough...I got in the habit of not saying things that could be construed as _flamboyant_.”

“I'm sorry man, that really sucks,” Jared said soberly.

“Yeah.” Jensen sighed and took another pull of his beer. “That's part of why I got out, you know? It just got too constricting after a while. Shit,” he huffed out. “Sorry to be such a downer. We haven't even eaten yet.”

“Seriously Jensen, don't worry about it,” Jared replied earnestly. “This is what we're supposed to do, find out about each other, even the stuff that's not sunshine and roses. But if cheering up is what you want,” he continued with a suddenly puckish glint in his eyes, “I think I know just the thing. Fresh town, fresh start, I'd say it's the perfect time for you to show me what's so great about dancing.”

Jensen snorted. “What, here, in the kitchen? Besides, I told you, I don't actually dance - ”

“Nope, sorry, don't believe you.”

Jared leaned over and switched on the radio, which abruptly blasted out fast paced country music. He stepped between Jensen's legs and pulled him off the stool while Jensen was recovering from the assault to his eardrums.

“Oh, hell no – Jared, what the fuck-”

“Dancing time!” Jared started to whirl them about the tiles insanely, not giving Jensen room to argue. He clung for dear life as they narrowly missed knocking over a chair and then the dog bowl, heart pumping rabbit fast as he scowled to cover up his suddenly urgent fear of tripping and cracking his head open. Then Jared started singing along to the music, right in Jensen's ear and horribly off-key. Sadie and Harley scrabbled up from the floor and started barking excitedly around them, worked up by the noise and Jared's antics, and the combined sounds kind of crescendoed into a rolicking mishmash of _twang_ and _bark!_ and Jared half belting and half laughing out the words. Jensen couldn't help it. He started laughing too, and then they were laughing together while the bright colors of the kitchen walls swirled around them.

Dinner passed by in a haze of good food and warm, lingering glances. Through it all Jensen felt like he was floating in a bubble of suspended perfection that nothing, not even his fears or worries, could penetrate. After tossing the dishes in the washer, they migrated into the living room on Jared's suggestion of picking out a movie “to complete the dating cliché.” Jensen was surprised to see Jared had a copy of _Much Ado About Nothing_ , a secret favorite of his, but he decided to play it safe and go for something more masculine than Shakespeare. A tense flutter of anticipation settled in Jensen's gut as they both sank down into the comfortably beat up couch, which lasted through the entire opening sequence of furious gunfire and improbably exploding vehicles. Jensen held himself stiff at first, not wanting to move too fast and maybe ruin everything, but Jared smelled delicious, a combination of dinner and a faint, woodsey aftershave, and after a while he found himself leaning closer just to breathe it in.

Jared turned to him with a sly smile right as nameless henchman twenty-three took one in the chest, and snaked a warm hand up Jensen's arm to circle around the back of his neck, slowly pulling him to Jared's face. The kiss was slow and soft and oh, so perfect, a gentle press together, lips coaxed open by a teasing tongue. In an instant, unspoken accord they went from slow and sweet to frantic, hungry, Jared urging Jensen to lay back and swing his legs up onto the couch, then yanking Jensen's hips down as Jared surged on top of him. Two sets of hands slid under each other's shirts to grab and clutch at smooth skin and hard planes of muscle.

Jared's hands caressed their way back down to Jensen's ass and lifted it up so their cocks pushed together roughly, and Jensen threw his head back in ecstasy, and maybe it was that final jerking motion that did it, unbent something or gave that last needed push, because he ripped out a long, horrifyingly loud _monster_ of a fart. God, it even had that awful, juicy finish at the end, that was like diarrhea personified.

Everything froze in a moment of utter silence as Jensen's face flamed until he felt like his cheeks were live coals. Then Jared started shaking on top of him, shoulders quivering, and a low chuckle started, that turned pretty quickly into loud guffaws from where Jared's head leaned against the back of the couch, tears tracking their way down his face.

Jensen went from crimson to bloodless. He frantically pushed Jared off him so hard that he crashed into the coffee table, but Jensen didn't even register it as he bolted from the room. Sweet Jesus, it was worse than when he'd put on those fifteen pounds working the Johston vs. Altera Inc. case and his asshole boyfriend said he hadn't signed on to be a chubby chaser. He should have known better – here or Chicago, it was all the same, he messed up, went off script and ended up spoiling everything. He'd blindly grabbed his jacket and was throwing open the front door when Jared slammed it back shut and braced himself in front of it like a linebacker.

“Whoa, hey, Jensen, stop!” Jensen started backing up, but Jared reached out and snagged his hand, pulling him back. Not hard, Jensen could have pulled away easily, and maybe that's why he didn't, why he let Jared reel him back until they were inches apart and he stood there, stone faced with his body wound in knots. Jared rubbed his thumb against the palm of Jensen's hand in a tiny little circle.

“Come on Jensen – it was just a little gas. It's not a big deal.” Jared smiled coaxingly.

“Yeah, I know. Just gas,” Jensen spoke back in a monotone.

“Call me crazy, but you don't look like you do – know, that is. Or – was it something else? Was I going too fast? I was going too fast, wasn't I? Shit, I'm sorry, I mean I -”

“No! No, it wasn't you, you. You're great, it was so great, I'm...” Jensen trailed off with a defeated look that broke Jared's heart a little.

“You're what, babe?”

“It's – you had everything so nice, it was perfect, you were perfect, I just...screwed it up.”

Jared wasn't sure if it was the right thing, but he couldn't hold back any longer; he enveloped Jensen in what friends called his “sasquatch hug,” arms squeezing tightly around him. Jensen stiffened even further, then collapsed a little into Jared's body.

“You know,” Jared spoke in a quietly playful tone, “spazzing out kinda runs in my family. I've got this cousin, Annie – Jesus, she was a spitfire! Still is, really. Anyway,” he continued, one hand moving up to cradle the base of Jensen's neck, “we were all on vacation, and we visited this historic village, like one of those Williamsburg type setups, you know? And we'd all sat down to dinner on these rickity wooden benches. So we eat dinner, and right when we're about finished my mom – my _mom_ – out of nowhere, she lets this massive fart rip, loud as anything. I kid you not, it actually shakes the damn _bench_ and Annie who's sitting next to her, she jumps up and runs to the other side of the restaurant yelling 'Earthquake!' And then the rest of us are sitting there cracking up while my mom is glaring at Annie and yelling at her to 'sit down, now!' and everyone else in the place is trying to stare without looking like it.”

Jensen couldn't help chuckling, although it sounded a little watery. He felt Jared's grin stretch out against the side of his face. “Man, my mom, she was pissed. About tanned Annie's hide.” Jared stopped talking, just stood there. _Cheek to cheek_ , Jensen's mental dialogue supplied.

“Jensen?”

“Mmm?”

“What we've got here, what I think we could have down the road...it doesn't need to be perfect. Frankly, I wouldn't want it that way. I'll take the spazzing and muddy pawprints, and farts that break the Richter scale– ”

“Oh, screw you, asshole.”

“Point is,” Jared continued, “it's real. And that's what counts, you know?”

Jensen hadn't. But maybe, he was starting to learn.

END 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the original prompt from SPN_kink_meme:
> 
> I've read some fics now where one of the guys cooks for the other and pretty often, it's very manly food. Like chili, for example.  
> But... we all know chili has a lot of beans in it, right?  
> My request would be:  
> J2 dating at one of their homes, food, beer and then making out (schmoopy, romantic, cute) and the moment gets interrupted by one of them having to let the beans out.  
> Like burping into the other's mouth with beer-breath or, well, farting, totally killing the mood. Highly embarrassed J1, highly amused J2. I wouldn't mind some actual sex after, but not necessary.  
> Oh, please no scat or anything like that.


End file.
